


I'm a Journalist

by amythis



Category: Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-16 03:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21029183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: Richie Cunningham's journal entries about the episode "Excuse Me, May I Cut in?"





	1. Second Date

Wednesday, October 21, 1958

Shirley Feeney called me, after almost a year! I checked last Fall's journal and it was eleven and a half months. Obviously, I was surprised. Our double date with Fonzie and her best friend Laverne was sort of a disaster, but fun, and we had talked about going out again. But she's older, like three or four years, and I'm just a high school kid, although now a senior, so I thought maybe she'd forgotten about me.

"Richie, there's some girl on the phone for you!" my kid sister yelled when I got home from school this afternoon.

"Which one?"

"You mean out of the hundreds of girls who call here?"

"Joanie," I said irritably.

"I think she said her name is Shelley."

I don't think I even know anybody named Shelley, but maybe this was one of Fonzie's fix-ups. I held my hand out for the receiver, which Joanie had been covering up so the girl couldn't hear. She handed it over, but she didn't go anywhere. I had to give her a dollar to make her go up to her room.

"Hello, sorry to have kept you waiting," I said as smoothly as I could, once Joanie was upstairs.

"That's all right," said a sophisticated voice I couldn't place. "I don't know if you remember me, but this is Shirley Feeney."

Of course I remembered her. You don't easily forget a girl who accidentally punches you in the face and then is hovering over your sprawled body "kissing your boo-boo" when your folks and your nosy kid sister walk in. But that girl had a completely different accent, sort of New York, maybe the Bronx, while this was posher.

"Uh, yeah, I remember you."

"Well, I was wondering if you were free this evening."

"Oh, uh, do you want to get dinner?"

"I was thinking after dinner. Could you drop by around eightish? Apartment A at 730 Knapp Street."

"Yeah, I could do that."

"See you then, Richard."

"Goodbye, Shirley."

I'm not sure if it's a date, but why would she ask me over if it's not? What if I think it's a date and it's not, and I embarrass myself? Or what if it is a date and I don't realize that, and I blow my big chance with her?

I'd ask Fonzie's advice, but he's at work, and I know he's got a dinner date, so I won't see him before I go. He'd probably just tell me, "Be cool, Cunningham." I'll go over with an open mind, ready for anything. But I'll wear a jacket and tie, in case it is a date.

  


Thursday, October 22, 1958

Yeah, it was a date. A short date, but that's okay.

I got there at 8:05, since that was around eightish but wouldn't make me seem too eager. Of course, I probably shouldn't have sung "Blueberry Hill," but I couldn't help it. I was just so happy about the possibility of a date with Shirley.

Laverne answered the door and we chatted a little but she was about to head out, going bowling. I tried not to get nervous about being alone in an apartment with a mature, experienced woman. After all, this might not be a date.

Then Shirley came into the living room after Laverne left, wearing a slinky black spaghetti-strapped dress. So this had to be a date, since it wasn't the kind of dress a girl sits around the house in. I managed to tell her she looked very pretty. She said I was handsome, and she played with my tie.

Then she offered me a glass of wine, and chips and dip. It was sort of like what I imagine a sophisticated college party would be like, except with no music and no other guests.

We talked a little about our last date, not the craziness of it, but just that we had a nice time.

I felt confident enough from the signals she was sending to say, “Well, maybe we should do something again sometime.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder and said in a sultry voice, “Anything but murder, Mister.”

Talk about signals! After that, things got a little blurry, although I'd had only a few sips of wine. I ended up asking her to the Victory Dance this Saturday. And she wanted a date for Laverne, so I suggested Ralph, but she thought Laverne would prefer Potsie.

I thought Potsie might already have a date, because it's not just a dance but a dance contest. And Potsie is the best dancer at Jefferson High. But Shirley said Potsie would have a real good time with a mature, experienced woman like Laverne, and I'd have a real good time with Shirley. I guaranteed that Potsie would take Laverne.

I left without even a goodnight kiss though. I did try to make my move on the couch, but she said we couldn't on the first date. I pointed out that it was our second date. She said we should wait until our third date. Which, yeah, will be on Saturday.

Now, obviously, I couldn't ask her just how good a time she was offering. But even if it's just necking, that would be great with a girl, a woman, as pretty as Shirley. And Laverne is cute and I think Potsie would like her.

I talked to him at school today, at lunchtime, so there wasn't much privacy, but I wanted an answer as soon as possible.

"Hey, Potsie, do you have a date for the Victory Dance yet?"

"Well, Rich, I've narrowed it down to Debra Lee Pilsner and Mary Sue Martin. Debra Lee is the better dancer, but Mary Sue is sweeter."

"Go with Debra Lee," Ralph advised. "I hear she kisses on the first date."

"What if I can get you a date with someone who does more than kiss?"

"You're kidding, right?" Ralph said. "No girl in this school would do more than kiss on the first date. At least no girl who would go out with Potsie."

"Uh, she's not from Jefferson. She's from Fillmore."

"Richie," Potsie pointed out, "the dance is celebrating victory over Fillmore. Do you want me to be a traitor to Jefferson?"

"A traitor who gets to second base," said Ralph, putting pleasure ahead of loyalty.

"She's an alumna," I said.

Ralph's eyes widened. "She goes to third base?"

"No, I mean she already graduated from Fillmore."

"She's older?" Now Potsie looked intrigued.

"A little. Do you remember Laverne DeFazio?"

"The tough chick that dates Fonzie?" Ralph answered, so clearly he remembered her.

"Yeah, I can get me and Potsie a double date with her and Shirley Feeney. I'd be with Shirley." I didn't want any misunderstandings.

"Man, oh, man, we got it made in the shade!" Potsie exclaimed. Then a blonde in an angora sweater blew a kiss at him from across the cafeteria. "Uh, I'll talk to Debra Lee."

Now I've got to talk to Fonzie, because I've never needed his advice more.

  


Friday, October 23, 1958

Well, I talked to Fonzie last night and now I'm really confused about Shirley. He's known her and Laverne much longer and better than I have, and he knows more about women in general. We were up in his apartment after dinner and I told him about my second date with Shirley Wednesday night and our upcoming third date tomorrow.

"First of all, I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Fonz."

"Second of all, watch your back."

"What?"

"Richie, do you know who the emcee will be at the Victory Dance?"

"Uh, yeah, I saw it on the poster. Carmine 'The Big Ragoo' Ragusa. Only 'Ragoo' is spelled with two O's instead of one U."

"And do you know who The Big Ragoo is?"

"Some kind of singer I guess."

"Yeah. He also happens to be Shirley Feeney's ex-boyfriend."

"Oh! Is he the angry, jealous type who's going to beat me up if I show up at the dance with his old girlfriend?"

"Well, he is an ex-boxer but, no, now he's more of a big brother to her."

"So he'll beat me up out of protectiveness if I get fresh with her?"

"Cunningham, he's not going to beat you up. However, he probably told Shirley about the Victory Dance and first prize."

"The his & hers television sets? Yeah, but I'm not that good a dancer. There's no way I'd win, even if Potsie weren't competing."

"And who will Potsie's partner be?"

"Oh! You think this is a set-up?"

"Yeah, but you'll probably get to first base. Potsie maybe second, if they win."

"Wait, why will Potsie go further than I will?"

"Let me explain Laverne and Shirley to you. Now, I love those girls. They're good people and great kissers."

"Yeah," I said a little dreamily, remembering Shirley's kisses eleven and a half months ago.

"But they don't, as Laverne puts it, vo-dee-oh-doe."

"Voting what?"

"Voe. Dee. Oh. Doe." With accompanying hand gestures for each syllable.

"Oh! But how do you know?"

He looked at me.

"Oh."

"No girl who won't with the Fonz is gonna with Potsie."

I suppose I could've argued that the future Mrs. Potsie Weber is a likely exception, but that clearly wouldn't be Laverne.

"As for Shirley," Fonzie continued, "she's very careful of her reputation. She not only won't fool around, but she doesn't want anyone to think that she fools around."

"Then why was she acting so seductive?"

Fonzie chuckled. "She must really want a new TV. Theirs was on the fritz last time I was over, until I gave it my magic touch. As for anybody giving Shirley the magic touch, that's gonna have to be her husband."

I nodded. "Thanks for setting me straight, Fonz."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for."

I've thought about cancelling the date, but what if Fonzie's wrong? Or even if he's right, I mean, worst case scenario, I spend the evening with a very pretty girl I don't even get to kiss. Potsie will be mad I led him on, but he'll get it over it. And if Fonzie's wrong, well, maybe I'll find my thrill on Blueberry Hill.


	2. Third Date

Saturday, October 24, 1958

Tonight really surprised me. For one thing, I got my head under Laverne's skirt.

There. If Joanie broke the lock on this journal, that's likely traumatized her and discouraged her from reading further. But I want to continue to record my life in as much detail as I can, as training to be not only a journalizer but a journalist.

Potsie and I took my car over to the girls' apartment. That in itself was exciting to him, that they were old enough to have a place of their own.

"No curfews!" he marveled.

I decided not to remind him we had curfews.

"So, uh, is Laverne a good dancer?"

I realized I hadn't thought to ask Shirley. "Does it matter?" I said suggestively.

"Heh heh. I bet she's got some great moves."

We laughed knowingly, but we didn't know anything.

Then he frowned and said, "I did want to win tonight. I kinda wish you'd waited a week for this double date."

I thought about telling him what Fonzie said, but like I told you, I thought Fonzie might be wrong, so why spoil Potsie's evening? "Well, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Do you want to cancel?" If he said yes, then I would've made some excuse to Shirley. Maybe I would've asked her out for another night, just the two of us, and I'd see if she was really interested in me or just using me and Potsie to get a free TV.

"No, I understand, and I am grateful. How many chances do we get to go out with mature, experienced women? I even shaved!"

"Me, too," I admitted. Just in case Fonzie was wrong. Well, he did say I might get to first base.

We picked up the girls, who looked great, Laverne in a blue outfit with a skirt that would swirl on the dance floor, Shirley in demure but mature pink and yellow. Potsie grinned like an idiot at Laverne, and I tried not to think about how she might crush him, especially if they lost the dance contest. He'd told me in the car that he once went to her father's pizzeria and she gave him extra cheese, but I doubted that meant anything.

I drove us all over to Jefferson High, the girls sitting in back, and Potsie riding shotgun but looking over his shoulder a lot and grinning at Laverne. As I parked the car, I couldn't help asking, "Is it weird for you girls that we're your rivals?"

Laverne shrugged. "Eh, high school was a long time ago." Shirley glared at Laverne, who added, "Well, not that long." 

I don't care about the age difference. Or I care, but I like that Shirley's a little older. What I cared about at that moment was whether she cared about me, or just the free TV.

We went into the gym and Potsie and Laverne got in line to sign up for the dance contest.

"You know, not to boast, but Laverne was the best girl dancer at Fillmore High School."

"Really?" Potsie said, his eyes lighting up.

"Yeah, but that was a long time ago." Shirley glared at Laverne, who added, "Well, not that long."

"Do you want to sign up, Richie?" Shirley asked.

"No, I'm not much of a dancer."

"Oh, I'm sure you're being modest."

"No, he's pretty bad." Now I glared at Potsie. "Well, you know, compared to me."

"Maybe you're afraid of some real competition, Bucko," I said, but I was just bluffing.

"Now, Boys, don't fight over a friendly little contest."

"Oo, Shirl, look, I counted and me and Potsie will be Couple Number Eight. That's so lucky!"

"More than Seven?" Potsie asked, confused.

"Yeah, see, Eight looks the same upside-down as right-side-up. So no matter what positions we go through, we'll always be the same."

Potsie grinned like an idiot again.

"Vernie, you're up next."

They indeed got the "eight" stickers for their backs, which put them, I now counted, dead center of the fifteen couples in line (not counting me and Shirley, who were just there for moral support). That seemed lucky, too, but I thought maybe they wouldn't need luck, if Laverne was as good a dancer as Potsie.

The contest started and, yeah, The Big Ragoo was hosting and singing. He didn't look like he was going to leap off the stage and beat me up for being there with his ex-girlfriend, so that part of what Fonzie said checked out. I hoped the Fonz was wrong about the rest.

While Couple Six was up, Shirley said, "Laverne, I think now's a good time to powder our noses." 

"I don't gotta go." Shirley glared at Laverne again. "Well, I don't. I haven't been chug-a-lugging the punch like you have."

"Excuse me, Richard." Shirley exited out the nearest door.

"Come on, Potsie, show me what you got."

"What?" The look on his face showed more fear than excitement.

"Well, I know I'm good and I hear you're good, but maybe we won't be so good together. So we need to find out if we're compatible."

"Richie!" Potsie looked at me helplessly.

I put my hand on his arm. "I think it's a good idea. You two should go in the hallway and practice dancing."

"Dancing?" Potsie repeated, then looked both relieved and disappointed.

Laverne grabbed his other arm. "Come on, Kid, let's cut a rug." She dragged him out the door on the other side of the room, but he went willingly, if nervously.

Shirley looked nervous, too, when she returned while Couple Seven was up. When the band took a break, she asked me where Laverne and Potsie were. I told her they were rehearsing.

Then the emcee came over and said, "Hi, Angel Face."

I genuinely thought he was talking to me, because I look so wholesome, so I said hi back. Then I had to play it off that I was being witty because I'm an aspiring journalist.

When Potsie and Laverne returned, they were all smiles, and I guess their dancing impressed the janitor. I said they had no competition, because no one I'd seen so far came even close.

But Debra Lee came in, very upset, claiming Potsie had broken his promise to take her to the dance, although he claimed he hadn't promised her. She insulted Laverne, who took her out in the hallway and got a little violent with her. I couldn't help remembering Laverne fighting with Shirley in the girls' room at Arnold's the first night I met them.

Then when Potsie and Laverne started dancing, Debra Lee came back and kicked Potsie in both knees! You might think she'd get back at Laverne, but I guess she was mostly mad at Potsie.

I was worried about one of my best friends being in pain, but I was also aware that he was not going to be able to compete in and perhaps win the dance contest. Before I had time to wonder how Shirley felt about that, Laverne took the number off Potsie's back and put it on mine. I felt like I was being drafted!

I reminded her I'm not a good dancer, but she had me follow her lead. One thing she told me to do was smile, and at first it was just part of the act, covering my nervousness and inexperience, but after awhile I felt genuinely happy. She was a great dancer and she knew how to make me look good, or at least like I knew what I was doing.

And, yeah, I went under her skirt, although it was pretty innocent. She got up on the climbing bars on the side of the gym and then jumped down onto my shoulders, so that I had her wide blue skirt over my head. I couldn't see anything so she had to guide me with her bare legs. I set her down after awhile and we danced a bit more, and then she leaped into my arms for the finish.

She kissed my cheek before I set her down, and then she shook my hand and even gave me a little hug. I hoped Potsie wouldn't be jealous. I wasn't so sure about Shirley, since I did hear her tell Laverne, "Think about the television set," when Debra Lee was insulting Laverne. But I kind of figured I would at least get a goodnight kiss from Shirley if her friend touched me that much on the dance floor.

The rest of the contestants really were no competition, even though I'm not as good a dancer as Potsie. A couple couples even dropped out. I figured we were at least in line for the second prize, the wood-smoked salami log. But we got first prize, two portable black & white television sets. Carmine shook our hands as we came up onstage, and he called me "Mr. Witty" again. He said, "Nice going, Laverne," and gave her a big hug. (He wasn't a judge. Only Jefferson High students could vote, so it's not like the contest was fixed or anything.)

"Good job, Richie," Potsie said from a chair that Shirley got him when Couple Number Nine was up. He was in less pain now but it was still hard for him to stand or even walk, yet he was grinning, maybe because we won or maybe because he hoped Laverne would be grateful for him risking life and limb, well, limbs, to try to dance with her.

I frowned. "How are we going to get you out to the car?"

Laverne held out her arms and said, "Come on, Kid, let's make a chair and carry him. Shirl, grab the TVs."

"Carmine?" she pleaded to the emcee.

Potsie staggered to his feet. "I can walk." Then he swayed a little.

Laverne put his arm on her shoulder. "Lean on me, Potsie."

He looked like he was going to swoon, but not from pain. "OK."

So I picked up both TVs and Shirley said, "Thank you, Richard."

We all went out to the car and I put the TVs in the trunk. Laverne got in the backseat and Shirley was about to join her, but I said, "Maybe Potsie should go in the backseat, so he can stretch out."

"OK," Laverne said, "Pots, you put your feet across my lap."

"OK," he said, his voice shaking a little.

I helped him into the car and then got into the driver's seat. Shirley sat in the shotgun seat. I kind of hoped she'd lean her head on my shoulder, but she didn't. However, after awhile she did hold my hand, so I did do some one-armed driving. I didn't want to get too optimistic but I couldn't help being a little hopeful.

We got back to Knapp Street and Potsie was able to get out of the car and walk on his own, although he did twinge on the stairs down to the basement apartment. Laverne carried the "hers" TV set, while Shirley got out her key.

The girls were understandably distracted by their TV and they didn't hear me shut the door behind me, so I opened it again and slammed it, and then I leaned against the wall in what I hoped was a man-of-the-world sophisticated pose, as Potsie, well, grinned like an idiot.

The girls called us down into the living room, so we went over, Potsie limping a little on the steps down, but still smiling. Laverne kissed my cheek again and told me I was terrific.

As smoothly as I could, I said, "Thanks. I usually do well under pressure."  


Then they both shook hands with both of us. Potsie and I hinted that we were expecting something more. So Laverne backed him up against a wall and kissed him until his eyes bugged out! Then he floated out of the apartment, not even limping, saying goodnight and nothing else. Laverne waved goodnight to me and Shirley, then she went into the bedroom and I was alone with a very pretty girl.

However, I'd seen her worried reaction to Laverne's kiss, and I had a feeling where this was going. I told her she didn't have to scare me off or explain. I also said I knew that she and Laverne went on the double date to win a TV. I didn't want to admit that the Fonz tipped me off, so I said, "I'm a senior," like I'm not the naive kid she went out with last year.

It might've been more accurate to say, "I'm a journalist." I'm learning to not just see the surface of things but to investigate, to see all sides. And the more I experience of life, in all its complexity, the better a writer I'll become.

She started to apologize and explain about how they needed a new TV. I truthfully told her I had a great time, because I was out with a very pretty girl and I won a television. I even mentioned the trophy that they'll engrave my name and Laverne's on.

And then she hugged and kissed me! And it wasn't a kiss on the cheek, like with Laverne, but right on the mouth. I was of course surprised, but I hugged and kissed back. Whatever her motives, I still liked her. And even if she and Laverne had used us, no harm had been done, except by Debra Lee of course.

Afterwards, Shirley said she kissed me because she wanted to, not because she had to. I was so dazed, I tried to exit through the closet!

Like Potsie, I floated out of there and found myself in the car. I shook my head to clear it, feeling tipsier than I had from the wine on Wednesday. Then I started the car.

After a couple of blocks, I asked, "How do you feel?"

"Great! That was a heck of a kiss!"

I had to smile a little. "Yeah, I saw. But I meant your knees."

"I think it's like we learned in science, the endolphins of Laverne's kiss blotted out the pain."

"Endorphins?"

"Yeah. But I don't think I'll go out with Laverne again. She scares me a little."

"Because she fights with other girls?"

"Yeah, that and I don't think I could keep up with her. Uh, not dancing."

I nodded. "I think someone like Mary Sue Martin would be more your speed."

"Yeah. How about you? What happened after I left?"

"You want me to kiss and tell?"

"Hey, I would tell you but you saw my kiss."

"Yeah, we kissed goodnight."

"Yeah? How was it?"

"Well, you know I've kissed her before."

"That time you had the double date with Fonzie and Laverne?"

"Yeah, and, well, it was as good as I remembered."

"Are you gonna ask her out again?"

"Maybe in eleven and a half months." By then, I'll be a college man and maybe I'll understand women better.

Potsie looked puzzled by my preciseness but then he shrugged and, as he did hours before on the girls' doorstep, he broke into my song, "Blueberry Hill," and I joined in again.

THE END


End file.
